#manifesting this for when I go back to school

[maddamoiselle]

The Weight of Wanting You

Pairing: Caleb x NonMC!Reader

Synopsis: You fell for each other in pixels and whispers—never realizing you had already crashed into each other every day in real life.

Tags: Ennemies to lovers, friends to lovers, university AU, slow burn( I hope)

Author's nonsense : Here is the next chapter ! I hope you'll enjoy it because I surely did !

Words; ar.6k

<- Previous Chapter |

Chapter II: The pull of unseen things

The pill tasted like metal and chalk.

You tipped your head back, tossed it in, and swallowed before it even touched your tongue.

Water followed. Cold, clean, clinical. It burned a little going down— maybe from habit.

Your dad called them “stabilisers pills”. You’ve been taking them since your Evol manifested.

Your father, as a doctor, didn’t want you to feel pain because of your power. He did a lot of research for those pills, creating them so you wouldn’t … You didn’t even know.

He used to say you had a bad episode when you were a child, and your evol almost destroyed everything… You had no memory of this…Sometimes you felt like your father was a tiny bit overprotective.

The bottle is plain. No branding. Just your name, your dosage, his signature.

You pressed the bottle back into your bag, zipped it up like you were hiding away a part of yourself. Your suitcase was ready, your phone was charged…

There was practice today. Game soon. You needed to be sharp. Ready. Controlled.

Especially around him.

Your phone buzzed just as you were tying your shoe laces.

Ding.

You checked your phone and couldn’t suppress a smile when you saw the notification on your phone.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed sent a media (5:21)

Since you first sent the picture of your finger forming half a heart, your discord friend started to send you pictures every day.

Sometimes, it would be the sky, sometimes a dog he was petting, something he was cooking…

But there always would be his finger making half a heart.

And you would answer with a picture of your own, never showing your face, of course, but always making the other side of the heart with your fingers.

Today, the picture was of a park.

He told you he had a very strict routine for his body. Waking up early to go for a run and then get ready for his school. One time, he said that his sister tried to keep up with him but ended up sleeping on a bench, waiting for him to finish.

Your face warmed. Your stomach did that annoying soft-flip thing when you noticed his finger making a half-heart. The picture was a little blurry. He must have taken it while running.

You snapped a picture in return— nothing big. Just the morning sky that looked pink… or even purple like. The colors were beautiful, it would be a waste not to share it. You do the other half of the heart with your finger before sending it with a caption.

WindQueen.exe (5:22): heading to battle

WindQueen.exe (5:22): if i don’t survive, avenge me with memes

WindQueen.exe (5:23): and maybe emotionally scar the enemy

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (5:24): already have the soundtrack queued

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (5:24): no one will be spared

You didn’t respond immediately. You just stared at the screen for a second longer than you should, smiling like a fool.

Then you stuffed your phone in your pocket, your headphones blasting soft music in your ears, and headed out to the train station.

You sent a message to Zayne, wishing him a good morning and asking him to keep you updated on all the hospital’s drama. He sent you a picture of you— that truly wasn’t your best angle— where you were giving the lens a side eye with a smug expression.

You chuckled before putting your phone away and tried to find a place inside the train.

After succeeding in your noble quest. You opened your bag and started to write today’s training.

You were in the university’s basketball girl’s team. You were the captain, and you wished to bring this team to the championship. That’s why you needed to make sure the gymnase was reserved for your team today.

The girls in the team were good, nice, and even cute sometimes. You weren’t close enough to them to call them friends. A few of them were really interested in playing basketball, they others were mostly there because sometimes, the boy’s team would train with you.

And, of course, Caleb would be there.

A yawn escaped your lips, forcing you to hold your hand on your mouth. You were more exhausted than you believed. The ride to SkyHeavan was mostly two hours… Maybe you could sleep for forty-five minutes, and then prepare for today's training…

Yeah…

‘Next stop: SkyHeavan.’

Your eyes snapped open. The voice repeated the sentence you thought was in your dream, but no.

The train was coming to your stop. Your notes were empty. And you were still sleepy.

Fuck.

You quickly grabbed your things before dashing out of the train. You must have looked like a lunatic. Your eyes were still burning from the lack of sleep, your hair must look like a bird's nest, and you could feel some drool on your chin.

You quickly took the bus that brought you to your apartment. You quickly left your suitcase iin your bedroom and took a quick shower to wake you up before dashing to the university.

Now that most of the exams were over, not a lot of students were on campus. The ones staying were the ones who had obligations or were studying for the next semester’s exams. You knew you had just one week of break before going back to your lessons… just one week…still better than nothing.

A sigh of relief passed your lips when you noticed the girls waiting for you in front of the gymnase. They waved at you while you smiled at them, opening the gym with the key which had been given to you when you started this year.

You gave orders, talking about the championship. It was your last year together. You wanted to win this trophée.

After an encouraging speech, the gym’s echoed with sneakers squeaks and half-hearted laughter as your team started their warmup up. You adjusted your hair, focused, already planning plays in your head. Even if you didn’t have the time to organise anything during your ride to SkyHeavan, at least you slept enough for you to have ideas for your girl’s training.

Then: the door creaked open. Heavy foot steps. Familiar voices.

”No way..”

”It’s the boy’s team…”

”Caleb’s here—“

You didn’t even look. You heard the shuffle, the whispers, the giggles… then Caleb’s voice, casual as always.

"Didn't know we were double- booked.”

Translation: We want the court, move.

“That’s because you weren’t booked at all. We reserved the gym.”

You crossed your arms as your teammates were already starting to drift toward the sidelines, blushing and brushing their hair behind their ears like they were in a teen drama instead of training for the championship.

“Unless you hacked the system,” he said, voice low and smooth.” I’m pretty sure that’s mine.”

”Captain…” one of them murmured, “ it’s fine we can cut a little short—“

”No, we can not.” Your voice was sharp, not yelling, just.. undeniable.

Caleb walked toward you with his phone in his hand. You frowned as he showed you his screen. In front of your eyes were the schedules for the gym’s reservation. Today’s session… was reserved for the boy’s team.

You took his phone out of his hand, making sure it wasn’t a joke. Why? Why? you booked the reservation this morning on the train—

Fuck, you fell asleep before you could do it.

You turned to face him. Caleb started down at you, knowing no one could see his face as his back was facing everyone.

He smirked at you like this was a joke he was already winning. He leaned toward you until his lips brushed your ear.

”Now, you can shut up and fuck off.”

Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal…

“ Caleb, why don’t you all play against each other?”

Caleb looked behind him, and then you saw her. His pipsqueak… She was looking at him with hopeful eyes while Guideon was laughing behind his hand. You could hear your teammates gushing and giggling, excited about the idea of playing against Caleb’s team.

” Pipsqueak… It’s not reall—“

” Come on, Caleb! And I would like to join the girl’s team too!”

You tried not to laugh at that. Your team, as distracted they could be, was on a level that made you reach nationals. You knew Caleb’s girlfriend wanted to be a hunter but… being a basketball player and a hunter was two different things.

Caleb scratched his neck before smiling at your team with a sorry expression.

”I’m sorry.. If it’s okay with you… could someone sub out for my—“

You groaned when you heard your teammates squealing in joy. Thank god, some of your girls were walking toward you, serious about playing against Caleb’s team. You weren’t ready to admit it out loud, but that would be a better training than what you had planned.

The court was split.

Lines drawn. Teams chosen. And somehow, because the universe had a shitty sense of humor, you ended up guarding him.

Caleb.

Again.

You didn’t know why his girlfriend didn’t want to guard him. Wouldn't that be a cute moment ? So why was she guarding Guideon?

Caleb played hard. Like he was trying to make a point. Every pass was sharp. Every drive was fast. He didn’t go easy on your team— even less on you.

He scored twice in a row, grinning like he already knew you were mad. And you were. But you wouldn’t show it.

Not yet.

His girlfriend called for the ball, and you passed it— a bit too quickly— and she fumbled it. Guideon scooped the ball before she could react. He passed it to Caleb, who pivoted midair, landed a pass with a snap, and his teammate scored.

”Nice assist, pipsqueak!” He laughed, facing his girlfriend and messing her hair. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault.’

So it was yours, maybe? You sighed, trying to keep your head cool.

Your team was getting frustrated. Even Caleb’s girl wasn’t smiling anymore. Your chest tightened.

Fuck it.

You let a gust of air slide under your shoes— just enough to give you a lift as you broke past Caleb and landed a clean shot.

He eyed you across the court.

Grinned.

Then, he messed with gravity.

The next time you go up for a shot, your legs are dragged, heavier than they should be.

You landed hard.

You knew it was him.

”Real subtle.” You hissed as you passed him.

”Don't start what you can’t finish.” He muttered back.

Oooh, it’s on.

Next time he drove toward the basket, you twisted the air — just a breeze, subtle, under his feet. He stumbled for half a second. Not enough to fall. But enough for you to steal the ball.

Your teammates on the bench cheered for you. His eyes found you again— a little surprise. A little impressed?

A lot annoyed.

”Cheating again?” He muttered as he passed you.

”Playing smart.” You shot back.

His girlfriend wasn’t that bad. She truly was trying and had good ideas. She was trying harder than some of your teammates. She called for a pass, and you didn’t know why you hesitated. You gave a shitty pass that made it out of the court.

”Sorry”!” She sighed. You could see she was truly annoyed by her mistake, even though it wasn’t her fault this time.

”All good, it was my fault.” You waved it off, tight-lipped. What was wrong with you?

Caleb noticed it. His jaw tensed. You could feel it— like gravity had eyes now. He got the ball again. Drove harder. Shoved past you, barely legal contact. The kind of shove that made you stumble and caught yourself before running after him.

”Relax,” he muttered under his breath,his whole body tensed.” Or is this about your new teammate?”

You glared at him, breathing hard. You didn’t have the time for his bullshit.

”This isn’t about anyone.”

”Right.” He smirked. “ Totally not acting like you’re one bad pass away from setting the court on fire.”

The match kept going, and in the end, other students started to come inside the gym to watch the game.

The ball landed in your hands. Caleb was guarding you. Just you and him.

The court noises faded— your teammates shouting, shoes squeaking, his girlfriend calling your name from somewhere far behind. None of it mattered. Not right now.

Caleb stepped up to guard you, and for a second, he wasn’t laughing anymore. No smirk. No taunt. Just eyes locked on yours, heavy with something you couldn’t name— something between challenge and accusation.

”Come at me.”

You didn’t answer.

He was fast. You were faster. The wind curled under your soles, a quick assist, but he felt it. The gravity shifted— your feet suddenly a fraction heavier. It was like you were running through syrups.

You shoved harder. Air lashed around you in a ripple. Your evol brushed against his like a current slamming into a wall.

Push. Pull. Lift. Drag.

Neither of you said a word; but every move screamed.

He blocked your path. You twisted. He shifted the floor beneath you. You pushed back with wind so sharp it raised the edges of his jersey.

”Are we still playing basketball?” He growled low.

”Afraid to lose?”

You pivoted. He mirrored.

You jumped.

He raised the ball’s gravity midair.

You countered with a sudden gust— trying to push the ball against his gravity.

It was raw, deseperate, and precise.

The second your fingers brushed the ball, your evol surged. So did his.

Air and weight collided. The gym’s lights flickered. The ball, pushed by both of your evol, is sent in the air with too much force. Too much speed. It escaped your control, and you could only gasp as it flew right into…

Guideon’s face.

”Fuck!”

Fuck.

Everyone ran toward Guideon, who was holding his bloody nose. You quickly grabbed your bag and gave him tissues while apologizing a hundred times.

”What the fuck is wrong with you two? Since when are we using evols for a friendly match?” Guideon winced as you tried to wipe the blood from his chin. Caleb is already using the phone in the gym to call for the infirmary.

After a few minutes, Guideon was taken away to make sure he was okay.

You sighed, grabbing a bottle and drinking the water you so needed. You could hear Caleb and his girlfriend talking about Guideon, hoping he was okay. You glanced at them and couldn’t help but feel envy as you watched Caleb hug his girlfriend.

Their touches weren’t romantic, but you could definitely feel a deep bound between them.

You wondered how it felt to be loved and cherished…

Your phone was still on the bench, and after hesitating for a second, you couldn’t help but send a message to your friend in Discord.

WindQueen.exe (11:34): i manage to take down my enemy's minion.

WindQueen.exe (11:35): might need help to defeat his boss

“It was a good match! I’m sorry I was so slow, but what can we do about it, Caleb was the one who trained me.”

You turned around and faced Miss Futur Hunter. She was beaming at you, blushing a bit. You could see she was nervous, you wondered why. A glance to your left, and you could see Caleb, his phone in his hand, staring at you.

Was he afraid you were going to hurt his girlfriend? Why was he always looking at you like you were a loaded weapon he forgot to disarm?

“You have good reflexes.” You nodded at her. She seemed disappointed you didn’t want to engage in a deeper conversation with her.

You took your stuff before walking toward the showers. You were sweating so much… Ugh..

The sound of Caleb’s chuckle made you pause. You glanced at him, surprised to see his face coloured by a light blush, his hand hiding his smile while he was staring at his phone.

You raised your eyebrow.

If you were his girlfriend, you would be jealous to see him react like this to someone’s message… Or maybe he was watching cute videos of puppies?

You went into the locker room and quickly went under the shower. You sighed in delight as the warm water fell upon your skin. You took your phone with your dry hand and quickly played music randomly.

You quietly hummed the lyrics, moving under the water.

That song was very catchy…

After drying yourself, you shared that song with your friend in Discord and realized he had answered you while you were showering.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (11:40): that’s my girl :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (11:40): now, give me a date so we can get rid of your final boss

You bit your thumb, trying to keep your smile in check. You almost felt confident enough to send a picture of you but decided not to. That was maybe… a bit too much. You walked back to the locker room to get change.

Your teammates were laughing, doing their hair, and taking selfies. Talking about the boy’s team like they were celebrities instead of classmates. You tied your laces tighter than necessary.

”Did you see how Caleb looked in his jersey today?”

”I’d give up a whole practice slot for that smile.”

You almost threw your water bottle at the wall. No matter what you’ve done— how hard you’ve trained, how hard you’ve fought for the team— they always melted when Caleb showed up. Did they forget that you managed to bring them to the nationals; that you fought against the teacher so you could train in they gym.

” Girls, you know we have a match in two weeks. Caleb has a girlfriend, please be respectful about it.”

You said in a cold voice before leaving the locker rooms while your teammates winced at your tone, feeling ashamed.

You walked toward the university, trying to find an empty room to… to be alone for a little while. You stopped when you heard a familiar song… The one you sent to your friend in discord… it couldn’t be…?

”That’s a good song, Caleb!”

You peeked into a room and stared at the scene. Caleb is sitting on a desk, music coming from his phone while his girlfriend is doing a TikTok with the song playing. You sighed in disappointment and also relieved…

Maybe you really were not ready to meet him..?

You stared at Caleb. His face had a fond expression as he tapped on his phone with one hand, his head moving to the beat of the song. His other hand was busy tapping on the desk he was sitting at, humming the lyrics.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (11:56): oh i love it :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (11:56): in our playlist it goes

You left the two lovebirds, smiling down at your phone while walking to find another empty room. After walking for ten minutes, you decided to sit on the stairs. You kept talking in Discord with your friends, adding more and more songs to your playlist.

Your phone buzzed, and your expression fell a bit as you saw your dad’s contact appearing on your screen. You sighed before taking the call, a small smile on your lips.

”Yep, dad?”

”How are you feeling, sweetheart? Did you arrive at SkyHeavan? everything went well? Did you take your pills?”

“I’m good. I took them this morning. You sound exhausted.”

”Yeah, well, work… I’m happy you’re feeling well. I’m worried about you.”

You looked up to the ceiling. You wondered if your father saw your mother in you. She died a long time ago, and he never talked about her… Never. You had asked Zayne to sneak into the hospital’s archive, but nothing.

Wasn’t it suspicious enough?

Your mother used to work in the fleet, and then she died. That was the only thing you and Zayne managed to find out. That’s why you were aiming to work there. To have your answers.

Someone asked for your father, and you could hear their calm voice.

”Dr.Noah (…) we need…”

Your father quickly said bye to you with a quick “I love you don’t forget your pills” before hanging up. You sighed before standing up. It was time for some library study.

After five hours of study and a bit of daydreaming, you made sure you knew everything. You stood up and decided to go to the outside basketball court. It wasn’t big, a little bit far from the campus…

The moon was already in the sky, the lights were buzzing faintly overhead, half the court cloaked in the shadows. The court’s surface was slick with the day’s leftover heat, the air quiet except for the soft thud of the ball against the pavement.

You’ve been shooting for… who knew how long. Long enough that your hands were now aching.

The silence was comfortable.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard footsteps behind you, measured, deliberated. You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

”What, stalking me now?”

”Was about to say the same thing.” Caleb replied, stepping into view. He was in a hoodie, sleeves pushed up, hair damped from quick rinse. His eyes found the ball in your hands, then the sweat on your face.

”Didn’t get enough earlier?”

You shrugged and bounced the ball once.

”Didn’t feel like a win.”

He stepped onto the court slowly, like he wasn’t sure if you were going to shout at you for coming close to you. But you were tired… You didn’t know about what. You didn’t want to fight tonight.

He was closer now. You could feel the subtle pull of gravity shifted— not because of his evol. Just him.

You passed him the ball. Hard.

”One-on-open. No teams. No distractions."

He caught it easily and smiled— not cocky like usual. Just… tired… like you.

”Which side are you on?”

You paused. The wind stirred around you like it was trying to whisper an answer. This question seemed way deeper than you expected. He was surely asking which side of the court you wanted to play on… and yet it seemed much more meaningful… But you couldn’t grasp it.

“ First to five?”

Caleb spun the ball in his hands. It was slower now, like he was not here to win…

” No evol this time, just skills.”

”Afraid of a little breeze?” You quirked a brow. You didn’t want to admit it, but you just wanted to play without feeling like you needed to think about everything, your team, your lectures, your pills…

”Terrified.” He deadpanned. “ You might blow me away…Or I might catch a cold.”

You smirked despite yourself, already stepping into position.He dribbled forward— light on his feet, smoother than he was during the game this morning.

Less aggressive.

You matched him step for step, mirroring every motion. Your evol stirred automatically, but you kept it in check.

Still, you felt him - the subtle drag of the air shifting around him, gravity bending every so slightly when he pivoted.

And you wondered if he was holding back too?

The points came and went,quietly.

You drove left. He let you.

He faked a shoot. You called his bluff.

No score keeping. No trash talk.

Just breathe. Movement. Silence thick with meaning that you couldn’t understand.

You took your shoot, and Caleb let you. He stared at the ball, which didn’t even touch the net as it went inside. You both were breathing hard, staring at the basket without saying anything.

Caleb turned his eyes toward you. Those eyes that weren’t warm for you, weren’t soft. They were calm, still cold… but curious. You wondered, did Caleb hate this much because of one mistake you made during your first years? Because you injured his precious girlfriend by mistake?

”You seem different … more different than I expected.”

”What did you think I was?”

” Dangerous.”

You laughed once— soft, bitter. You walked to grab your basket, taking your bag before looking at him.

” Do I seem dangerous to you?”

You should leave.

You should turn your back,storm off the court, and let him think he had won— because staying there meant he would see he had hurt you. It meant staying in a moment where your pulse didn’t calm down and your lungs felt too full.

You .. dangerous…?

You could almost hear your father’s voice asking you if you took your pills. Every day. For your security.

Did you take your pills? Did you take your pills? Did you take your pills? Did you take your pills? Did you take your pills? Did you take your pills?

For whose security?

The ball was rolling somewhere near the edge of the court. Forgotten.

The wind had stilled around you, like it was holding its breath.

“ I don’t get why you hate me so much, Caleb. You don’t even know me.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, jaw clenched tight. He seemed tired, torned by his own emotions… What was he hiding?

“That’s the problem,” he muttered, “ I do know people like you. You end up hurting the one I’m trying to protect.”

You blinked.

Was it about his girlfriend again?

The implication was sharper than any blow.

“If you’re talking about your girlfriend, I never wanted to hurt her.” Your voice started to shake. Why did you care so much about his words?

Your heart beat against your ribs like it was trying to escape. You wrapped your arms around yourself, but it did nothing to quiet the ache under your skin.

Then, without meaning to, you said it:

“If I’m so dangerous... why didn’t you just walk away?”

The words hanged in the air.

You didn't expect an answer.

And for a moment, he didn't give one.

Then—his voice low, like he hated himself for saying it:

“Because something in me keeps wondering if I’m wrong.”

He was still watching you — all fire and edges, arms crossed like he was holding himself together with stubbornness.

You were about to walk away.

You needed to walk away.

But then he said it.

Low. Sharp.

“Whatever those pills are, they’re not for relaxation.”

You froze.

The word hit like a punch to the gut.

“What did you just say?”

He didn't back down. Didn’t blink.

“I saw them. Your bag was open during practice this morning. I looked.”

The world tilted for a second. Did that bastard look through your stuff… And for what?

Your chest tightened.

“You... went through my stuff?”

“Yes.” He shrugged, but his voice was cold, controlled. “And the bottle had no label. No pharmacy. There is no record in the school med system. Just your name. And your father’s signature.”

You felt like you were going to kill him.

“Those are just focus pills,” you snapped. “I take them to control my evol. My dad, he’s a doctor. He knows what I need.”

“Yeah, he knows exactly what you need,” Caleb muttered bitterly with a smirk.

You shoved the words down — the confusion, the hurt, the humiliation.

“You think I’m dangerous. You think I’m lying. So you spy on me, search my bag like I’m some kind of threat?”

He stepped forward, eyes sharp with something that looked too much like desperation.

“I'm wondering now. Do you know that doctors need to write the name of the medication they give..”

That stopped you.

He walked toward you, hands in his pocket while his eyes never left yours. You felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. He was staring down at you like he had all the answers, and you were just a naive sheep waiting to be sacrificed.

“Ah, but I guess a doctor from Ever wouldn’t care about it.”

Ever..?

The words hit something deep — something you didn’t have a name for yet. Your father was a doctor, a respectable one. He would never work with Ever.

Never.

Yet, you couldn't open your mouth.

Your father had created those pills to help you with your evol.

You never left like you didn't control it.

He didn’t want you to suffer from your evol.

You never suffered from it.

He loved you.

He didn’t care about you. He only cares that you take these pills.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to vanish.

You wanted to believe he’s wrong.

But a seed of doubt has already taken root.

You left the court without another word. No goodbye. No second match. Just the quiet shift of your steps on the path back through campus.

Your legs ached. You didn’t want to go back to your apartment yet.

Your eyes were burning from the tears you refused to share with the world.

You were just tired, and Caleb was messing with your head. That was it.

So you find the tree. Your tree— a huge, knotted thing near the edge of campus that hides you from everything. The roots curved just enough to become a seat. The branches above you rustled faintly as you sat back against the trunk, staring at the stars through the leaves. you closed your eyes, letting the world around you lull you to sleep.

You didn’t know how many minutes— hours?— passed before you pulled out your phone and opened discord.

There he was. Your safe place.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed— online.

You snapped a photo of the grass, the edge of the tree trunk visible, and of course, you made half a heart with your fingers.

WindQueen.exe sent a media (22:09)

WindQueen.exe (22:09): world’s quietest therapy session

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:09) : wait wait wait

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:09): you mean this tree?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed sent a media (22:10)

You blinked and looked at his phone, and your mouth went dry.

Because it was the same tree. Same roots, same cracked bark pattern.Same tiny carved initials near the base but… from the other side.

Your fingers froze above your keyboards. Then, three blinking dots. He was typing again.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 22:12): you’re kidding me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:12): are we literally sitting on opposite sides of the same tree??

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): dont panic, do you want me to leave

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): even if i want to meet you, i can leave with my eyes close i promise

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 22:15): do you want me to leave, tell me please

WindQueen.exe (22:16): stay

Your eyes traveled to the grass, and you saw it.

A hand.

His hand— slowly pressing into the grass, palm open, fingertips brushing the clover between the rots. Not reaching toward you… but just being there. Close enough that if you wanted, you could…

No one said a word.

The discord window glowed faintly in your lap. The blinking cursors mocking you about your inability to react to this moment.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:20): we cant hug right now so… can i hold your hand?

He wasn’t peeking around the three. You weren’t either.

Your fingers shifted from your phone to the earth. You reached around the thick curve of the trunk blindly until your hand brushed his.

You felt him tense, but he didn’t move.

You tapped his palm with your fingers. You chuckled when you saw his message of discord.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:23): Are you trying to kill me, woman?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:24): my hand must be so sweaty, sorry

His finger closed around yours.

Warm. Smooth.Real.

The night deepened. The air is cooler now, brushing against your skin like a whisper. You were still holding his hand.

You didn't know if he could hear your sniffled, but he didn't text anything. He just kept holding on to your hand, squeezing harder and harder.

And you were squeezing back.

You were so grateful for his presence after this horrible evening. You didn't know if he was a student here or just passing by... but you were grateful..

His hand was still in yours.

Neither of you had spoken in minutes. The Discord chat sat open between you — a final few messages just waiting to be answered. But the words stopped being enough the moment your fingers touched.

And now, the silence said everything you were too scared to type.

The wind shifts through the branches above you. The leaves shivered. Your heartbeat felt too loud.

Then he moved.

Just a slight shift — a squeeze of your hand. And then… his fingers started to pull away.

Not fast. Not cold.

Just… gentle. Careful. Like letting go might hurt if he did it wrong.

But you both knew it’s time.

Neither of you said it out loud.

Your thumb gave his a soft, slow squeeze — the kind you didn't do with strangers.

Then your phone lighted up.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (23:10); i should probably head back

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (23:10): before the grass permanently imprints on my spine

You laughed softly — just under your breath.

WindQueen.exe (23:11):tragic

WindQueen.exe (23:11): you’d become part of campus folklore

WindQueen.exe (23:12): the ghost of the tree boy

A pause. And then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 23:13):…you’d visit, right?

Your heart fluttered — light and aching.

WindQueen.exe (23:13): every night, I would bring snacks. and sarcasm.

Another beat of silence. Your fingers didn't let go yet.

Then his last message appeared:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (23:15): same time, same tree, next time?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (23:15): no pressure

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (23:15) only if you want to

WindQueen.exe (23:15): as if you could put pressure on me

WindQueen.exe (23:17): Goodnight, my little ghost

And finally, slowly, his hand pulled away.

You didn't look.

You didn't move.

You just sat there —heart full of something you couldn't name,phone screen dimming, hand tingling like it remembered his.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (23:19): i can't stop smiling...

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (23:20): im such a loser

You giggled, tilting your head back against the tree.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed sent a media (23:20)

You stared at the picture. It was the tree where you were sitting. You were behind it, so you weren't on the picture, but your heart melted at the sight.

And as always, half a heart with his fingers.

You took a picture of the tree and made the other side of the heart with your fingers. You sent it with a caption.

WindQueen.exe sent a media (23:22)

"For my loser."

---

Taglist: @xyzbeloved @deepspace-fishie @floofycookie @silmeria-lafleur @pagesfalling @noxus123 @sylusgirlie7

[sparklingpaintwater]

@chromeheartsbaby @asgard23 @qversazex

here y’all go!

we really could’ve been living young, wild, and free

pairing | rafe cameron x black!fem!reader

warnings | cursing, kids?, marriage, adultery, violence (hoes are getting slapped), the pogues, r*thie mentioned

you woke up to violet crying. you sat up and glanced at the analog clock on the wall: 4:08. groaning, you stretched over caleb to pick her up. she was hungry, most likely. you were trying to wean her off of breastfeeding, but because of the night's events, you just let her. you patted her back to soothe her whimpers. you heard a knock on the front door that you knew could only come from your sister-in-law, sarah cameron.

you shuffled exhaustedly to the front door, disarming the alarm, and unlocking the door. sarah, pope, and kiara stood in front of you, blankets, flowers, and food in their hands.

you let them in. it was almost comical how they were able to find these items at this hour. "how the hell did y'all manage to get this shit?" you whispered as kiara put everything down to give you a hug.

"pope made some lasagna yesterday and i made you all some breakfast before we left. john b picked the flowers from the garden as soon i told him the news." sarah explained, enclosing you as well. pope joined in, giving you a kiss on the head. you and pope were cousins removed. his aunt married your uncle but divorced when pope was nine and you were eleven. still, you managed to stay close and still affectionately call each other family. they let go of you.

violet fell asleep on your breast. you unlatched her and allowed her to lay her head on your shoulder. the three young adults watched you as if you were made of glass. “thank you guys for coming,” you fixed your shirt, squirming under their gaze. you felt pitiful in front of them.

"um, there's bedrooms down that hall. i'm going to try and sleep a bit more if vi lets me. y'all fill free to invite jj and john b in the morning," you said softly. more tears fell down your face.

"come 'ere," kiara consoled, sarah taking violet from you so kiara could hold you tight. sarah and pope went to put violet back down to sleep. you let out an anguished scream in kiara's shoulder, muffling the shrill noise. you cried as hard as you possibly could, your chest burning from the lack of air you had from the sobs. every single moment you had with rafe was tainted after the view of that video. from your wedding to your anniversaries, stained with the haunting idea of his lips, his hands, being on another woman. the physical manifestation of his vows to be loyal to you and only you were tarnished when his left hand graced her skin.

kiara gently rubbed your back, repeating the mantra "i've got you." you used to babysit kiara when you were a preteen. hell, you guided her through most of her life. she was the one who introduced you to rafe when she was visiting sarah's house in their early high school years. you held kiara's hand when she cried about falling out with sarah cameron. and now she was holding you as everything you knew about your husband fell apart. eventually, your cries turned into small whimpers, and you faded back into sleep.

you woke up on the couch, hearing kipper the dog play on the tv. you sit up, seeing caleb play with violet on the carpet in front of you. you place your feet on the ground and crawl to join them. "hey guys, good morning!" you greet, clearing your throat of the hoarseness it had. didn't help, but it made it sound better.

"hi mommy!" caleb grinned, pushing a toy car across the floor. violet played with her brother, attempting to push the small cars along with him.

"where are sarah, kie, and pope?" you questioned, picking up a green car to play with them.

caleb continued playing. "they went to go shopping and told me to watch vivi." your son said simply. of course they thought a six year old could watch a toddler. you rolled your eyes.

"i'll talk to them about that later. i'll be right back. are you hungry?" you questioned, getting off the carpet to go to the bedroom.

"yes ma'am!" caleb responded loudly. you picked up your phone and turned it on. instantly, your phone buzzed. twenty missed calls from rafe. four voicemails. twenty text messages.

"okay baby. here i come!" you called back. you opened the first voice message.

"hey honey. where are you? where are the babies? call me back, sweetheart."

"y/n, i'm getting worried. did something happen?"

"y/n, why did you leave your ring here? i'm getting scared. is everything okay? please call me."

"y/n, please call me. baby, i'm worried. i'm going to call around to see if anyone's seen you. are caleb and violet with you? please call me, honey. i'm worried sick."

rafe was frantic in his last message, you could hear his footsteps pacing the oak wood floors in the house.

you re-entered the living room, picking up violet to put her in the high chair you left at this house. caleb found a seat next to her in a dining chair as you went to the kitchen to warm up the food the pogues made for you all.

you opened the tupperware to find eggs, waffles, and bacon. you warmed the food, put it in the the appropriate plates for the kids. you served caleb and violet, supervising them. you couldn't bring yourself to eat. just then, you heard another knock. a different knock than sarah’s.

you got up and glanced through the peephole. it was your cheating husband standing outside, purple bags under his eyes. he hadn't slept. good.

you opened the door. rafe sighed with relief, trying to embrace you. "baby," he said, walking forward. you put a hand up, and stepping outside of the house. you closed the door behind you. rafe stared at you, confused. crack! you slapped him with all of your might. your hand stung from the impact. rafe stumbled back. his face had a red handprint stamped on it. a small trail of blood leaked out of his nose.

"what the-why did you slap me?" rafe snapped, looking at you incredulously.

you scoffed. "why did i slap you? you have some fucking nerve."

"i have some nerve? i come home, you aren't there, our kids aren't there, your car is gone, and you don't answer the damn phone? on top of that you're in columbia without a soul knowing!" rafe spat, walking up to you aggressively.

"did you forget about your night with ruthie?" you retorted. the color drained from rafe's face.

"yeah. i'm up at two a.m., waking up in a pool of sweat because i didn't feel your body next to mine. then i get a video from an unknown number of you making out with ruthie," you continue with bile in your speech. rafe's eyes widen. "how long?"

"w-what?" rafe muttered, shocked.

"i ask you something now you fucking choke up. how long have you been cheating on me, motherfucker?!" you bellowed. you couldn't contain your wrath. "you could at least tell me how long you've been sleeping in her bed, staying out late, something!"

rafe tongued his cheek. he couldn’t make eye contact with you. "two months." he mumbled, embarrassed. you chuckled coldly. your eyes began to betray you, hot tears sliding down your cheeks.

"get the fuck out of my sight." you told him. rafe stood there, tears in his eyes.

"what about us?" rafe asked dejectedly.

"what about us! you decided to let that go out the window when you started seeing that bitch. and your shitty friends kept it from me too. so fuck them too." you seethed, pointing a finger in his chest.

"you don't have to talk about her like that." rafe puttered.

you laughed bitterly. “she can go to hell. and so can you. fuck you, rafe." you barked.

" y/n-"

"nah. you don't get to ‘y/n’ me. you made a promise- to our kids, to God, to me! and you broke it. for her. you told me not to worry and i trusted you. i fucking trusted you. and this is what i fucking get,” you shouted, crying. “i wanted to grow old with you. i wanted to watch our children grow together and become parents themselves. i wanted to retire with you. i quit my fucking life for you. for you.

“all you had to do was stay faithful. and i guess that was too damn hard for you.”

tears escaped from rafe's eyes.

"i'm sorry." he whispered.

"i'm sorry for having high expectations for you. leave. now." you couldn’t yell anymore. you knew you had already alerted caleb with your yelling by this point.

"can i at least see the kids?" rafe choked out, his voice wavering.

"i'll think about it." sniffling, you crossed your arms.

“baby, please. i’m sorry. please, i-i-i made a mistake. it was stupid-”

“save it, rafe. i could give two shits. get out of my sight.” you demanded, pointing to the gate. you began to go back into the house.

rafe tried to approach you. he was desperate. he grabbed your arm to stop you.

“please-“

you whipped around, swinging a perfect right hook to his jaw. it connected, knocking rafe off his equilibrium, causing him to fall onto the gravel driveway.

rafe groaned, writing on the rocks. it pained you to see him like that. but you knew if you helped him up, you would forgive him. so you turned around and went back into the house, locking the door behind you. caleb ran up to you, noticing your puffy, irritated eyes.

“mama? you okay?” he questioned. you bent down to his level and hugged your son. he hugged you back as tight as his small frame would allow. you picked him up and walked to violet’s highchair, scooping her up as well. violet babbled happily, chanting “dada.”

“i heard daddy. is he here?” caleb inquired, one of his little hands on your face.

“let’s take a nap, yeah?” you suggested, dodging the question. caleb nodded his head sleepily. you put them down for a nap, closing the door behind you. you sighed heavily. all you could do was stare at your wedding picture framed on the wall, your worst nightmare playing our right in front of your eyes. sliding down the wall, you plopped down onto the cool hardwood flooring. you pulled your phone from your pocket and immediately got to work. you emailed your lawyer, demanding a gag order on the club that rafe and ruthie were in, making sure that they couldn’t release the footage themselves. you would be damned than let the public know that rafe cameron cheated on you. you turned your phone off and went back to staring at the picture.

you were now completely numb.

[heyyoufriendthere]

Nobody asked, but hey. I’m unreasonably sure of myself when it comes to comic book opinions.

Aunt May doesn’t know Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

I mean, she does NOW, but for a good majority of Peter’s career from the sixties up? Hell no. I know it’s cute whenever she’s dying to get that scene where she’s “always known,” and fandom LOVES a “it’s SO obvious when you think about it” moment for when they want to dump on the medium, but no. May Parker doesn’t know he’s Spider-Man and- more importantly- she DOES NOT want to know, and I like it that way.

“Why?” I hear you ask. “She’s been basically his mom since he was a little freaky marvel baby! Who on earth knows him better than her? How on earth couldn’t she have figured out her beat to shit nephew wasn’t Spider-Man when he’s basically just leaving his blood and costume all over his room?”

1. Because as feel good as it is, the Parker household isn’t sunshine and roses. May and Peter shut themselves off for years after Ben died. They love each other to death, but they don’t communicate. He's either shut away in his room, cracking jokes or off running around doing god knows what.

She's talking around him. Walking on eggshells. They both blame themselves, and it took decades for them to admit that to each other. Peter let the robber go, May chased him off because they got into an argument.

This shared guilt manifests in them both desperately wanting to take care of each other.

First, Peter throws himself into being both the Spider-Man, AND, more importantly, the breadwinner. The boy is broke. You know it, I know it, it's one of the single most iconic and relatable things about him. He gets weird about it. He's ALWAYS worried about it. I hear he might even have a money-worrying disease.

Money or the lack thereof has always been important to the mythos, even before Ben's death, but before Ben dies it manifested in things like Peter wanting a car or motorcycle the family couldn't afford and doing a wrestling gig. After Ben dies, his priorities shift.

He treats Aunt May like she’s made of glass (to be fair, she kinda is. Early Spider-Man has that woman fainting or having a heart attack every other week. Her constitution is held up by tissues, the US Healthcare system and Anna Watson’s unbreakable back muscles.) Now, on top of being a near full time super hero, he's also saddled himself with the responsibility of taking care of the only parental figure he's got left in life while also trying to juggle both school and spending time with a friend group whose bank accounts aren't worried about when Jonah's feeling particular chipper about paying his employees.

Now he's trying to cover May's medical bills. Now he's trying to cover the rent. Now he's more worried about leaving May alone to live with Anna when his burgeoning friendship with Harry Osborn and the Coffee Bean Gang has netted him a free, all expenses paid apartment.

Meanwhile.

May's doing the exact goddamn thing. Richard and Mary dying the way they did kicked off the Parker family habit of keeping secrets, and Ben dying kicked her s-mothering into overdrive. She starts doting on him in a way that makes him feel like a child (modern depictions will try to convince you he was an itty bitty baby boy when he got his powers. They're lying. He was out of high school like 30 issues after Amazing Spider-Man #1.) She's pawning her jewelry. She's trying to set him up with Mary Jane because she knows what's best for him (he needs someone fun and energetic because he's so quiet, and it's certainly not going to be that awful Betty Brant who will keep him on his toes).

Her entire idea of their relationship is that he's functionally helpless and she needs to take care of him, especially with one foot in the grave, and that she needs to put on an act that everything is fine. Richard and Mary are dead, Ben is dead, she's barely functioning on her and Ben's savings, the things she can sell and the money Peter's bringing in from his photography work. Everything is fine and life will be just a bit brighter with a nice schmear on the bagel.

(Shout out to JM DeMattheis for showing up in the 90's to inject some fucking LIFE into Aunt May. Look at that quirked eyebrow. What a legend. Never read his Doctor Fate run, it will give you hives.)

2. Because, contrary to popular belief, Peter’s VERY good at hiding his identity and gaslighting his friends and family when you combine it with the good old Parker luck and its passive debuff to everyone's collective sanity.

Is this not the face of a woman doing okay in her relationship with New York's Friendly Neighborhood dirtbag?

I blame the Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon (he's fine with Shield immediately revealing his identity to a group of teen heroes? Absolutely the fuck not.) and the continuing woobification of comic books for how much this idea that Peter's inherently bad at keeping his identity secret comes up, because it's backbreaking work Peter has to do pull the wool over all of their eyes.

Why is he late? His job. Why is he never around? His job. What could his excuse be this time? Aunt May had her bi-weekly heart attack. Why is he beat to hell and back? He got hurt in the middle of getting pictures of Spider-Man. Why won't he ask for help? Why do none of his friends find this suspicious?

Part of it's because he didn't have friends in High School except for Betty and Liz Allen. He was an angry loner too stuck up his own ass about how smart he was to take the NUMEROUS opportunities presented to him to actually engage with his peers except to fight with Flash, (don't let modern depictions fool you either. Flash Thompson and Peter Parker weren't Bully and Bullied, they were enemies. They gave as good as they got. That's also, not coincidentally, why Gwen and Harry's first impressions of him in college were that he was rude little jackass).

So by the time he's in college and finally has a social life, literally everyone is used to him being a flake.

Which isn't to say that's the only way he's keeping his secret.

Here's the first of a few attempts to tell people exactly who he is.

Peter has a habit of telling his friends the truth they need to hear you see. Sometimes when he's delirious, sometimes when he's not, like here at Gwen's birthday party.

Or here when he's finally resolved himself to stop ruining his girlfriend Debbie's life after numerous therapy sessions about how she knows he's Spider-Man.

But that'll never be the end of it! He can't just out himself to the people he loves! No! He just made Gwen cry! Think about what this would do to May! So he does things like going to Hobie Brown.

Or walking back his reveals the second someone doesn't take them seriously.

After all, if it's fixed her and she doesn't suspect a thing, why bother telling her the truth? Yeesh.

But you get my point. Peter gets both very good at keeping his identity secret and is very wary of actually telling anyone over the years, to the point that just about the only people who knew leading up to the Civil War reveal were Mary Jane (don't you love a friendly neighborhood retcon?), the Fantastic 4, off again dead or dying Harry/Norman Osborn, and Black Cat. Otherwise it would just be people with superpowers or extenuating circumstances ENTIRELY out of his control, like being ambushed by the Serial Sniffers like Wolverine and Daredevil, getting outed by his gooey ex Venom when it came into contact with Eddie Brock, and the occasional psychic like the Cyclops and Jean Grey's time/dimension adrift fail-son Nate Grey.

But this is a post about Peter and Aunt May, so let's get back to that before I run wild and free on another tangent.

3. Aunt May has had so many opportunities to know his secret. She finds his costume in his room!

She's literally seen a whole doll made of web fluid in his bed! She faints immediately of course, it was the sixties, but what does he do? Does he say, "Oh Aunt May, I'm so sorry I've been lying to you for awhile, I'm actually Spider-Man"? No! Of course he doesn't! He lies about why the hell there was a webbing doll in his fucking bed!

But why does she believe him?

Because it all comes back to this.

If Aunt May knows three things, it's that Aunt May knows her nephew.

Aunt May knows reality.

And Aunt May knows that she HATES Spider-Man.

Wait what?

Yeah! Aunt May hates Spider-Man, go figure. That rotten motherfucker is the cause of so much grief in her life. Why is Peter getting hurt? He's taking pictures of Spider-Man. Who's always causing trouble in the Daily Bugle? Spider-Man. She's set to marry Otto Octavius, and who shows up to ruin it? Spider-Man. George Stacy died, orphaning Gwen?! Spider-Man! GWEN DIED? SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-FUCKING-MAN!

She hates him so much that she pulls a gun on him. She fires it! There's a BKOW effect and everything!

Let that sink in. Not only is this the only time Aunt May has ever used a gun in the main continuity, but it's pointed at him. In her purse you'll find petty cash, some important documents, her change purse, a cooking utensil or two, and Aunt May's Glock For Spider-Man.

To me, Aunt May not knowing and not wanting to know is an important part of the character because her not being able to square these two things she knows are true in the same round hole makes her even more compelling. Peter Parker is her frail nephew who she loves more than anything in the world and Spider-Man is singlehandedly the largest, most destructive cause of stress for the Parkers. If her finding out isn't a shock, if it isn't negative, then something is wrong with the reveal.

Because you can't tell me that this woman finally coming to terms with the fact that Peter Parker is Spider-Man is going to be a peaceful affair. That she'd know and just be waiting for him to tell her.

This is a woman who hates and loves with a passion. Peter is her son and she's going to do what any good mother would do if they found out their kid is actively putting himself in harms way and lying about it to their face. Fic culture and games like Insomniac's Spider-Man, LOVE to smooth over all of her edges. She's the perfect, prim, caring Aunt May with infinite patience and a penchant for dramatic reveals. Can she be sad? Sure. Happy? Always. Worried about her nephew? No problem. Sometimes she can even be disappointed.

But angry? Not the perfect mother? No we can't have that, what about our feel good narrative? God forbid if she occasionally bites Peter the way he bites everyone around him! That would sully the message!

I don't know. I've spent the past five hours typing this up and finding my various images. Section 2 had to be cut way down because I can't hop across 12 more runs looking for the way he let Harry get trucked off to a mental hospital or how he burned Norman's goblin suits to keep him from relapsing from his amnesia and revealing his identity.

Long story short. Let May kill a man. Let her have a reaction less tepid than gasping out how proud she is of Peter. It's what makes those moments when she starts harassing Jonah and the Bugle feel so much better. It's why it's so cathartic to see them finally reconcile. Smooth Aunt May has never and will never hit the same.

[echoesintheravyne]

. ࣪𓇻 ݁ᅠchapter 1 : i’ll see you when we’re home for the summer. 。

▌| character/s: finnick odair , annie cresta ▌| description: initial meetings by the poolside. ( annie cresta x gn!reader x finnick odair ) ( wc: 1.9k ) ▌| warning/s: none ( yet ) ▌| author’s note: additionally, a ( supposed one-shot ) fic with tidbits of my interactions with my crushes over the summers i’ve been in swimming classes. tried not to use y/n as much as i could and also tried to revert back to gn!reader. it's my first time writing a series ,,, urm ,,, go easy on me ,,, ▌| link/s: main navigation , "along the riverine nexus" series navigation

The unrelenting heat of summer had come to greet you in the local community pool. Sweat sticking to your skin after a light warmup with the coaches, the too-tight latex of your cap digging into your forehead made it annoying to wear.

You didn’t understand the point of it all— you lived by the sea. You were born to swim … the ability was just taking its time to manifest. So, no need to do lessons, right? School itself was enough learning. 

In an attempt to argue your point with your parents, you tried showing off the little swimming skills you had … which was just paddling in the water. An amazing display, in your opinion. It kept you afloat. Alive. Which still wasn’t enough for them to be convinced not to enroll you in the local swimming classes District 4 usually held over summer break. They insisted that you needed a more formal way of learning.

Now, with a seemingly permanent frown etched on your face, you follow behind the gaggle of excited kids. In front of them all, was the loudest boy you have ever heard in your life. Bursting with life as he talked with his— who you assume to be— his friends, while the coaches led the small group near the 4ft. section of the pool. The water was the clearest shade of blue you’ve ever seen— not quite real, not quite familiar. It wasn’t the deep blue one would see in the sea but there wasn’t anything interesting in it. Not enough to hold your attention for long. No fish, no salt in your eyes— nothing.

There was another kid beside you. A little fidgety. Looking out of place as she swivels her head left and right, trying to find someone familiar, you think. The brunette then turns her head towards the other kids, her gaze eventually falling on you. Who was still staring at her. 

“Hi.” In the softest tone one could muster, she greeted you. You felt kind of stupid when your mouth opened and closed, with no sound coming out. Her eyes were nearly the same familiar shade of sea-green you’ve known all your life. A singular thought ran through your head at that moment— pretty.

She began fiddling with her fingers, offering her name to you— Annie Cresta.

This time, you finally found your voice, and offered your own name. “Your name is really pretty.” You said with a smile.

The shy smile she flashed you in return nearly made your cheeks warm up. Maybe it was just the heat of the sun. You weren’t sure. But you were sure you gained a new friend today.

—

The stupid latex cap now was in your grasp. Chlorine will ruin your hair, you could practically hear your mother’s voice in your ear when she warned you at home. But neither parent was here to supervise you, so— like every independent person out there— you decided that the cap be damned. Comfort it is.

You felt a sudden jab to your side, a short pang lingering as Annie shot you a warning look. It’s hard to take her seriously with her kind features. Big, round eyes and the scrunch of her brows was just … cute. “Wear it.” She pointed towards the coaches, who were now demonstrating the importance of swimming goggles and— ugh— the cap.

“But he’s not wearing it!” In a petulant and whiny manner, you pointed your index finger at the boy in front earlier. He must have had sharp hearing though, perking up at your whisper to Annie, trying to find the source. You tried to cough discreetly, avoiding his curious stare that settled on both you and Annie at the back of the group.

Thankfully, your group was divided between those who could and couldn’t swim. You breathed a sigh of relief when he was grouped with the experienced swimmers and you— well, you and Annie stuck together like two peas in a pod. It was easy to fool around in the pool. Meeting her joyous smile that turned her eyes into crescents beneath the water, as you simultaneously dunked your heads. Bubbles floated around, the giddiness emanating from both of you, while both drew the air from your lungs and expelled it through your noses harshly.

For the following days, that was the new routine you’ve established—stick with Annie throughout the day. From the warmups on the heated concrete poolside, doing bubbles, to practicing (and struggling) kicks with a kickboard. With Annie’s help, you quickly learned how to better your form in the water. She also proudly gave you an anklet she made with a thread in your favorite color, its beads from small cowrie shells you’ve seen wash up on the shores of District 4. Later that day, you introduced the kind girl who shared a token of friendship with you— Annie— to your parents with the anklet in hand. You’ve been wearing it at all times, even in the shower. Nobody would be able to take it from you, even if they tried.

After a week passed, one of your coaches— Gadus— thought it would be fun to merge both groups together to “get to know each other.”

What he failed to mention, was that this meeting would be held by the 10ft. section of the wide pool— completely over on the other side where your group usually practiced. The tiles at the bottom transitioned from a shallow edge, which deepened on the other end. Gadus clapped his hands to get all of the kids’ attention. Some wanted to jump in already and were being held back by the other coaches, some were already playing with the surface of the water, and some were more reluctant to even face the deep end of the pool. You fell towards the latter half of the list, standing behind Annie to hide yourself from Gadus’ contemplative stare that swept over the children.

“How about…” Gadus’ blue eyes suddenly pinned you on the spot, “you! Over there, behind Annie!” He announced your name and beckoned you over to his side, introducing you to the other kids while you waved hesitantly. 

“Come here, Finnick!” The kids parted to the side, and— oh god, it was the boisterous boy you were whispering about earlier— Gadus lightly pushed you toward his direction. 

“I’m Finnick! Finnick Odair,” His upturned face had the most blinding smile you’ve seen on a person. You shake his hand, which he gripped firmly— enthusiastic in the way he shook it up and down.

“Okay, Finnick—” The coach started gently explaining how it was going to work, “I want you to take your partner and try to teach them how to float in this part of the pool, alright?”

“Everyone!” Gadus called for everyone’s attention again, “We’ll be pairing up the experienced kids with the beginners— just to let you mingle!”

The young boy, now holding onto your other hand, nodded eagerly. It was comforting to see, and it was easy to compare him to the golden retriever that visits your creaking house every morning. He turned his body to you, leaning in as if to whisper a secret. “Do you want me to keep holding you when we jump together?” There was a pause in the air, with you thinking about it. The coaches moved on with the other kids, entrusting you in the hands of another. If they could trust Finnick, why shouldn’t you?

You tipped your head down and quietly agreed. Finnick smiled, before counting out loud to prepare you for the eventual jump.

“3… 2… 1—!”

Opening your eyes underwater burned, but all you could see at that moment was your partner grinning at you. The subtle shift of your breath caught in your throat, his sea-green eyes glittering. 

Pretty, you think again. Like Annie’s.

Before you could run out of oxygen, you break the surface of the water, inhaling large gulps of air. The sun blinds you once more, but Finnick’s hold remains steady. You tried to remember the coach’s demonstration, treading the pool, feeling the ripples as you calmed your breathing— trying not to think about the depth and the lack of footing beneath you. Closing your eyes, the liquid entering your ears and muffling your surroundings. Floating, your body weightless amidst the chaos other children were making around you two. Light. Free.

—

It became a common occurrence for Finnick to wave at you when you arrived at the pool. After that joint session, it was a pleasant surprise for you to see him during sunrise at the beach. He was a frequent visitor, but you were usually still asleep during the hours he frolicked in the sea. When the orange-tipped rays of the sun greet you, your father likes to take you out on a boat ride, the wood groaning under the weight, but still carrying it. You heard him one time. A loud shout rang in the empty beach— “Hey!” and Finnick was right there, waving both of his arms to get your attention. In your excitement to greet him, you jumped up in the small boat— and your father tried to sit you down. “We might fall!” he chided. Still, it didn’t take much for the small boat to tip over.

Your sputtering form was a sight to see and your father merely laughed as he swam with you ashore, while pulling the boat behind him.

Shivering from the coldness of the sea, the first thing he asked was: “Did you catch a fish?” with a smile, a small dimple forming on his face. Cheeky, you thought and shot him a look.

“I caught the air.” 

“More like swallowed seawater.”

You sent a playful punch on his shoulder for that.

On the other hand, you still spent the majority of swimming class with Annie. She was a strong swimmer, better at grasping the right angle of the arm at every stroke. Every kick had power, even at her young age. Meanwhile, you were still learning your arm strokes with the aid of the kickboard.

Despite her eagerness to learn how to swim, she was also the first one to leave the pool during snack time. Under the awning that overshadowed the benches near the pool, she would open her bag with pastries inside. Out of curiosity, you had asked for a bite— your snacks being some cut fruits, and hers smelled better. Warmer.

“You’re not allergic to dairy, are you?” She retracted her hand that held the long bread quickly, worry etched in her face. You shook your head, more eager to taste the pastry than deal with the possible effects of the food to your stomach. It was soft and the crunch of sugar paired with the melted cheese inside had you humming in delight once you bit into it. It was a messy sight, one that drew a laugh from Annie.

“You should wipe that away before we go back to swimming.”

“I can just wash my face there.” You replied, a joking lilt to your tone.

“Noooo—! We have showers near the pool for that!” Her eyebrows scrunched together, a disapproving pout forming.

“Okay, okay!” You laughed, bounding off with her towards the showering area to wash off any excess bits of sugar on your hands and faces. It was simple. Yet, so memorable for the younger you.

Ending the day was a doleful experience. It meant having to say goodbye to the friends you’ve made, as few as they were. Two was enough, in your opinion, as their presence slowly became a constant in your life. Perhaps, summer could be spent with more memories than you thought. The swimming lessons were just a conduit to meeting people who would leave a bigger impact on your life.

written by echoesintheravyne — please do not copy, edit, screenshot, or repost any of my works. do not feed my writing into ai. likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

[maydayintheforest]

I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external validation and relationships to be happy I don’t need external—

[spotaus]

That Modern(ish) Tauverse AU where we have Nightmare and his four adoptive sons now has this lil collection of Bad Reference Doodles lol!

[ducktracy]

i am literally so mad that i have waited years to write this review of Daffy’s Southern Exposure and when i finally do i get the worst cold i have had at least within the past 5 years and am too sick to write a substantial amount. like come on. COME ON! i would almost rather it be COVID because that’s at least a valid excuse!!!!! sorry this post nasal drip made me nauseous and then i got mad that i was nauseous because i also had a bad stomach bug two weeks ago that also prevented me from writing. needless to say i hope you all enjoy the review when it’s out because my goodness it is giving me a hard time. thank you for your patience again 😤🙏

[lovelyisadora]

just submitted another job application and now I want to walk into the ocean and never come back

[autistic-katara]

time is a liquid and babygirl i’m drowning

[kohakhearts]

now that the insomnia fic is finished i can focus on the other fics i want to write but one of them is huge. giant. and here i am. writing it for a silly little rarepair

[onlypinkslut]

warning 18+ next part 2 > older pervy teacher!toji x innocent student f!reader🎀.

cw: grooming, manipulation, teacher x student, age gap, dubcon, taboo. mdni.

professor fushiguro had a reputation. not the kind that showed up in formal complaints or scandalous whispers, but the quieter kind, the dangerous kind. he was handsome, unnervingly so tall, built like a fighter not a lecturer, always dressed in black button-downs with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, veins peeking out like he wanted you to stare. and married. very married. a slim platinum band on his ring finger that he never took off, not even while scribbling equations across the whiteboard or wiping chalk on his pants.

he taught intro philosophy. the kind of class full of wide-eyed boys/girls who thought they were deep because they’d just discovered camus. but he never looked at them at least, not the way he looked at you.

it started subtle. lingering eye contact when he called on you, asking for your thoughts when you hadn’t raised your hand, brushing his fingers too close when passing papers. at first, you thought you were imagining it. that you were projecting something sick and inappropriate onto a man who clearly had no interest in silly little students. but then came the way he said your name slow, thoughtful, with the corners of his mouth curling like he was tasting it. like it meant something to him.

and then the school trip was announced. a philosophy retreat to another city. three days, two nights. guest lectures, roundtables, and some pathetic team-building exercises. you weren’t even going to sign up until he looked straight at you, mid-lecture, and said i expect all of you to come. some of you need the experience more than others. his eyes didn’t move. you didn’t dare look away.

the flight was cramped. assigned seats. you didn’t realize the horror of it until you read the manifest and saw

mr. fushiguro listed next to your name in tight black font. he was already seated when you boarded, legs wide, jaw tense from the early morning. and when you shuffled in, clutching your little bag to your chest, he barely blinked. just motioned for you to sit like it was normal.

his thigh touched yours. his elbow grazed your arm every time he shifted. he didn’t look at you. didn’t say a word. but when the lights dimmed and the plane rose into the sky, you felt it that heat, that wrongness, crawling up your skin like a fever. he exhaled slowly beside you and his breath grazed your neck.

then came the descent. everyone around you began to shuffle, seatbelts unbuckling, the aisle clogged with bodies waiting to leave. you stood up, trying to squeeze past him, but the line wasn’t moving and he didn’t budge.

you mumbled something excuse me… but he just looked up with that lazy, unreadable expression, eyes dragging from your thighs to your lips. and before you could step back, he gripped your waist and pulled you down, right onto his lap. your knees hit the seat, legs splayed awkwardly on either side of his, and you froze, heart hammering.

his voice was low and soft against your ear.

relax. just until the line clears.

you looked around in panic. students were watching, some snickering, others wide-eyed. your cheeks burned. you tried to shift off but his hands pressed into your hips, holding you there.

you’re shaking, he murmured. nervous flier?

you tried to speak. to move. but his thigh shifted beneath you, just enough to make you feel the hard shape forming there, and your blood turned to fire. he didn’t even pretend to hide it. just rocked his hips subtly, like it meant nothing. like it was normal.

good girl, he breathed, still loud enough for only you. you’re learning how this works.

you didn’t speak for the rest of the walk off the plane. your skin felt like it didn’t fit right, legs sore from trying not to grind down on his lap, jaw locked so tight you thought it might crack. professor fushiguro stayed close behind you the whole time, rolling his suitcase casually like nothing had happened, like your thighs hadn’t just clenched around him in front of half your classmates.

the others were loud. dragging their bags through the terminal, laughing, pushing each other like overgrown children. you stuck to the back, head down, trying to disappear.

but he didn’t let you.

careful, sweetheart,

his voice slid out behind you as you stumbled slightly on the escalator. his hand found your back warm, wide, steady and pressed there as you stepped off.

you really should wear more supportive shoes. your ankles are too delicate for all that walking.

you heard the giggles before you even turned. two girls near the vending machine, whispering behind their hands. someone muttered, he’s so protective of her, and another one snorted. you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

but he didn’t stop. he leaned closer, brushing your hair off your shoulder in one slow sweep, his fingertips grazing the back of your neck like it was just a kind gesture.

did you even eat this morning? he asked, frowning at your suitcase like it had wronged him. you’re already swaying. c’mon, let’s find you something light.

professor, i’m fine..-

no, he cut in gently. you’re my responsibility now. can’t have my favorite student passing out in front of the whole class, can i?

you swallowed hard. someone definitely heard that. the stares were louder than the voices now. you kept your head ducked while he guided you through the airport like a little girl his hand always on your back, his voice soft, too soft.

and then came the hotel.

they passed out room keys in the lobby. everyone was half-asleep, waiting for their pairings to be called. you hovered near the back, praying hoping but then the coordinator raised a small envelope and called your name, along with one that made your knees lock.

professor fushiguro.

your head snapped up.

you expected him to object. to say it must be a mistake. instead, he smiled. actually smiled. that same lazy, slow grin he gave in class when a student said something dumb.

looks like you’re stuck with me again.

the envelope was placed into his hand. he didn’t even give you yours. just held it in one hand and reached for your wrist with the other, tugging gently like he was leading a child through traffic. your breath hitched.

don’t worry, he whispered low, only for you. i don’t snore.

your knees nearly gave out.

the hotel room door clicked shut behind you with a soft finality. you stood frozen near the entrance, arms tight over your chest, suitcase still in hand. everything felt a little too quiet. a little too still.

the room was bigger than you expected luxurious in a way that didn’t feel meant for students. polished wood floors, a king-sized bed with a tall headboard and crisp white sheets, gold lamps glowing warm on each side, casting light that made the shadows stretch long. there was only one bed.

you stared at it too long.

he noticed.

looks like they forgot to give us two, he said casually, not even surprised. he rolled up his sleeves with slow fingers, loosened his tie and tugged it from his neck like he’d done it a hundred times before.

probably some kind of mix-up with the school. they’re always disorganized with this stuff.

you swallowed. your throat felt dry.

he turned back toward you, voice warm. you don’t mind sharing the bed with this old man, do you? it’s just one night.

you opened your mouth. closed it. shook your head.

no… it’s fine professor.

he smiled, soft.

good. you’re like my daughter, anyway.

your stomach twisted.

you didn’t say anything as he took your suitcase from your hand without asking, set it beside his, already resting near the bed like it had always belonged there. the two bags looked strange next to each other. intimate. like a couple’s.

you stood there while he moved through the room with ease, kicking off his shoes by the armchair, stretching like he was home. like this was normal.

then he picked up the hotel phone and called room service.

he didn’t ask what you wanted.

for her? something soft. salmon. jasmine rice. tea. nothing spicy.

your eyes snapped to him. his were already on you.

just something sweet and easy, he added, like he knew you better than you knew

yourself.

you nodded, too afraid to speak. your voice felt buried.

when the food arrived, he set it on the table and pulled the chair out for you. you sat.

legs crossed tight beneath the hem of your school-issued skirt, and picked slowly at the plate while he poured your tea.

you keeping up okay in class?

he asked, tone light.

yes, you whispered.

anyone giving you trouble?

you shook your head.

he sipped his own tea and leaned back slightly, watching you. the silence stretched.

you’re quiet,

he said.

always have been. the kind of girl no one notices unless they’re really looking.

you didn’t know if that was meant to make you feel safe or exposed.

you nodded again, forcing another bite of fish into your mouth.

his phone buzzed. he reached for it, glanced at the screen, and his face barely shifted but you saw it.

a small tightness in his jaw. he turned it around and showed you without a word. a picture. a little boy sitting in his lap, smiling up at him. a woman behind them, pretty, poised, hand resting on his shoulder.

my family, he said. no emotion in his voice. just fact.

they’re… cute, you offered, shy.

yeah, he said, already locking the phone and setting it face-down.

after you finished eating , he sat down in the armchair again, legs wide, thighs stretching the fabric of his dark slacks. he patted one.

c’mere. i’ll show you more pictures if you want.

you hesitated.

don’t act like we haven’t done this before, he said gently. come on, sweetheart. it’s just us.

your body moved before your brain caught up. you sat carefully across his lap, thighs draped over his, heart pounding in your chest like a small animal trying to escape.

he pulled you close. one arm behind your back. his phone in the other. photos flipped by birthday parties. vacations. family dinners.

and then his hand moved. not suddenly. not obviously. but slow. casual. it rested on your thigh, just above your knee. warm. wide. like it belonged there.

you squirmed.

he didn’t stop.

he swiped through another picture. his thumb rubbed slow circles into your skin.

you’ve grown a lot this year, he said quietly. filled out in places. you’re becoming a woman.

you tried to pull your skirt lower.

professor…

he kissed your cheek.

it’s okay. you’re like my daughter. this is just affection.

his hand slid higher.

you pushed it gently.

don’t be nervous, he murmured.

i just want to make sure you’re okay.

you sat still, heart pounding, thighs trembling over the stretch of his thick one. he’d pulled you into his lap again like it was normal, like the hotel room hadn’t gone too quiet, like dinner hadn’t already gone cold on the tray. the lights were dim now, golden and low. his hand rested over your stomach, the other between your thighs. not groping. just… resting.

he rocked you gently, side to side. you didn’t know why he did that. it felt like something a dad would do to calm a baby. but your pulse was racing, and your body felt so strange hot, stiff, twitching in ways you didn’t understand.

professor… your voice was small. you felt it tremble.

he hummed against your hair. mm?

why’re you… touching me like this… you asked, confused and breathy. it feels… weird…

that’s because you’ve never been touched properly before, he murmured, hand sliding slightly lower, grazing the soft curve of your inner thigh. your body doesn’t know what it wants yet. but i do.

you shifted, uncomfortable. the movement made his thigh brush directly against your pussy again and your breath hitched.

it’s okay, he said softly. you can feel that, can’t you?

feel what…?

the heat. his fingers brushed between your legs, right over your panties. right here. this part’s all wet now. that’s your body’s way of asking for help. and i’m going to help you.

but.. i don’t understand, you whispered, squirming in his lap. it’s not… i didn’t do anything..

you didn’t have to, he said, kissing your temple. your body reacts to me even when you don’t mean to. that’s what makes you different from those other girls.

you blinked. what girls…?

the ones who chase boys and drinks at dorm parties, he said, rubbing soft circles into your clothed slit. they think they’re grown. think they’re in control. but not you.

your eyes stung. you shook your head softly.

i don’t… i don’t party, you whispered.

you don’t even let boys touch you, do you?

n-no… never.

his hand pressed a little harder.

have you ever let anyone see this? he asked gently. right here?

you swallowed thickly, shaking your head again.

no. i never… no one’s ever…

do you even know what a cock looks like, sweetheart?

your whole face burned. i mean… no! not really. i’ve seen it in biology but not in real life.

no…

he smiled. god, he was so calm. so smug. like this was a lesson he’d taught a you.

that’s good, he said. i like that. means i get to be the first one to show you everything.

you looked down, still confused. but why… me? why’re you doing this…

he lifted your chin and looked you in the eyes.

because you’re the only one who still has something worth touching.

and then his hand slipped past the side of your panties hot fingers grazing your folds gently, slowly, carefully.

you gasped.

professor..

shh, he whispered, rocking you again. this is just a lesson. now tell me the truth…

his fingers rubbed delicately up and down your slit.

have you ever touched yourself here before?

you whimpered, eyes wide.

i… i tried once… but i didn’t know what to do… i stopped… my fingers hurts my pussy..

that’s because no one ever taught you, he said. and now i will.

your breath hitched hard when his fingers slid deeper, just barely spreading your soft, soaked folds open under the cotton of your panties. your whole body jerked, thighs twitching, lips parting but no sound came out at first. and then, like something cracked inside you, your face crumpled.

professor…

his fingers paused instantly.

what is it, baby?

your hands curled into his shirt, face twisting, eyes filling fast.

i-it feels so weird… it’s t-tingly and i— you whimpered, cheeks wet, i think i need to… pee or something…

you tried to close your thighs. tried to squirm away. but his arms held you tighter, locking you into his lap like you were made to stay there. he pressed a kiss to the side of your face, slow and gentle and warm like he wasn’t doing anything wrong at all.

shhh… no, no, sweetheart. you’re not gonna pee.

he whispered, brushing your hair back as your tears slipped down.

that’s just your little body not knowing what to do. it’s okay. it’s good. it means you’re feeling it right.

b-but professor, why’re you touching me there, you cried softly. i-it’s private…

he didn’t stop rocking you, just pressed his palm deeper against your soaked panties again and rubbing it.

it is private, he murmured, kissing your cheek. but you needed help. and no one else was going to teach you the right way. only me.

you whimpered, hips jerking forward without meaning to. the heat was unbearable. and the shame stung just as badly.

but you’re my teacher…

i know, he whispered. and that’s why it’s okay.

your eyes widened.

what…?

because sweetheart, he said, rubbing you slower now, lips brushing your temple. i see how soft you are in class. how shy. no one else notices. but i do. and that means i’m the only one who gets to help you.

you sobbed again, barely able to sit still, your hips sliding forward with every desperate rock of his thigh.

i don’t wanna be weird… i’m not like those other girls you said…

you’re not, he breathed. you’re better. softer. cuter. you don’t chase boys.

you don’t pretend to be grown. you just sit there with your pretty little skirts and keep everything bottled up, like your body’s too good for this world.

you hiccuped, voice cracking.

d-does your wife pussy pee like this…?

the question came out in a whisper. like something you shouldn’t have asked.

he went quiet for a beat. the movement slowed.

then his mouth dipped to your ear.

no, he said flatly.

his hand cupped your pussy again, rubbing the wet fabric in slow, grinding motions.

she’s old now. bitter. independent. thinks she knows everything. never cries for me like you do.

you blinked tears down your cheeks.

i’m not trying to cry..—

but i love it, he said. i love how overwhelmed you get. how honest you are when you’re like this.

his fingers slid under your panties fully this time, parting your slick folds with a quiet squelch that made your entire body tense.

you’re so sweet down here, he whispered. so soft. you’re leaking all over me, baby. it’s okay. let it happen.

but i-i don’t know why i feel like this, you whispered, trembling.

because you’re finally safe, he said, kissing your cheek, rubbing slow, deep circles into your pussy now. parting your wet lips with his thick fingers exposing your soaked twitching hole.

his thigh was so warm, and everything felt slippery between your legs. you didn’t even know when your panties got this wet. your whole body trembled against him, tucked into his lap like you were part of him now his hands guiding your hips in soft, humiliating little rocks while he whispered so gently into your ear, like this was all just... educational.

feel that, baby?

he murmured, hand slipping lower again to press between your legs,

cupping you through the soaked cotton.

you’ve been dripping since dinner.

i-it’s not my fault..

you whispered, voice cracking, tears brimming.

i don’t know why it’s happening...

he hummed, rubbing slow lazy circles over your pussy with two fingers.

because your body knows what it needs. even if your brain’s still trying to catch up.

your lip quivered. your thighs twitched. the damp heat had gotten unbearable.

but professor… this place… it’s gross and private. isn’t it wrong?

his voice honey-sweet.

it is private. that’s why it’s mine now. only someone who really cares should ever touch you here. and i care more than anyone ever could.

you whimpered, tears falling.

i don’t understand why it feels like this,

you sniffled.

i-it’s like… hot. and i get this.. tingly squeeze inside. like i’m gonna pee..—

oh, baby.

he whispered with a soft laugh.

you’re not gonna pee. that’s your little pussy trying to cum. it just doesn’t know how yet.

you shook your head.

i-i’ve never done that before. i never touched it like that. i didn’t know it could do that…

i know,

he said, rocking you a little rougher now.

you need me to teach you everything, don’t you?

yeah…

good girl. then let’s start with the basics. say the word.. 'cock.'

your eyes went wide.

i don’t want to..-

his fingers dipped just beneath your panties, grazing your soaked slit.

say it.

you swallowed hard, squirming.

..cock.

he groaned softly into your hair.

that’s it. again.

‘cock.’

you repeated again, blushing.

mmh. now say, 'i’m wet.'

your voice cracked.

i’m wet…

he licked his lips, dragging his fingers up and down your folds, so slow you thought you’d break apart.

say, 'touch me here.'

t-touch me… here…

good girl,

he growled.

you’re so fucking sweet.

you gasped as he unbuckled his belt behind you. your body froze. your heart skipped.

what are you doing…?

relax. he breathed, stroking himself now behind your back. i’m not gonna do anything to you. just sit right there sweetheart.

you flinched when something heavy and hot pressed against your thigh. you looked down. your breath caught.

what is that..—?

you whispered, panicked.

why is it so… big?

he chuckled darkly, wrapping one arm tight around your belly.

that’s my cock, baby. the thing your little body keeps reacting to. it’s big because you’re small. because you’re made to sit right here and take care of it just like this.

your eyes filled again.

it’s scary…

shhh, i know, baby. i know it looks scary. but it’s not for hurting you. it’s just for making you feel good.

he moaned, stroking himself faster now, grinding your soaked pussy down harder onto his thigh. you’re perfect, baby. so soft. so sweet. say it again.

professor c-cock… i’m wet… touch me here…

his whole body shuddered behind you. you could feel the heat spurt across your leg,

thick and wet and terrifying. he groaned deep, squeezing your belly tight, panting against your ear.

see what you do to me, baby? just by sitting there leaking like that… fuck.

you looked down at the mess between your thighs.

you were still tingling. still hot. still wet. your thighs were sticky where your panties clung, and your tummy felt tight in a way you didn’t know how to soothe. he’d told you to rest. to go lay down.

to be his good girl and not touch anything but how could you?

not after what he did to you.

you were on the bed, curled up in your thin little pajama set shorts too small, top riding up your soft belly, clutching your stuffed bunny with your cheek pressed to the sheets. your eyes kept drifting to the light under the bathroom door.

you heard the shower.

your thighs pressed together again. he was in there. naked. touching himself maybe. you weren’t sure what men did when they showered. but you knew what you saw earlier the thick, scary thing that had rubbed against your leg. it looked swollen. heavy. too veiny. and it made your whole body squeeze up with confusion and need. your bare feet padded across the carpet before you even realized it. bunny still in your arms, you crept closer to the door, the quiet hiss of water growing louder. and then you peeked. your breath hitched.

he was there back turned, broad shoulders glistening. his hips rocked under the spray.and between his thighs… it hung so long. thick. heavy. wet and twitching slightly. your whole body locked up. you didn’t even notice the sound you made.

his head turned.

his voice was sharp.

what are you doing?

you flinched, hugging your plush tighter.

i-i was just… looking…

you whispered, shrinking in the doorway.

he stepped out of the shower slowly, water trailing down his chest, down to his hips, down to the terrifying length between his legs.

his brows furrowed.

i told you to be in bed.

you whispered

i was.. but i couldn’t stop thinking about it…

he paused.

about what?

your eyes dropped.

your… your manly big thing.

he blinked. then he laughed.

this?

he asked, wrapping his big hand lazily around it, giving it one slow stroke.

it scared you?

you nodded fast, lip trembling.

it’s so ugly… and… veiny… and hairy… and it looks like it’s in pain or something…

he stepped closer, cock still hanging, still so heavy. your eyes widened.

it’s not in pain, babygirl.

he said gently.

it just gets like this when it needs attention. and yours made it like this, remember?

you squirmed in place, thighs rubbing together again.

i didn’t mean to…

he crouched in front of you, still naked, stroking it idly with one hand.

i know, sweetheart. but it’s part of being close. bonding.

bonding? you repeated, voice unsure.

mhm, he smiled. girls your age bond with their daddy’s big cock when they don’t have anyone else to teach them.

but… what is it?

you asked, voice soft.

what does it do?

he leaned closer, rubbing the tip against your center pajama shorts, right where you were still damp.

it makes you feel good. it helps when that little place between your legs gets too full. like earlier. you felt better when i touched you there, didn’t you?

you nodded slowly.

but… it looks like it wouldn’t even fit… anywhere…

he smiled wider.

that’s why we start small. we’ll get you used to it, baby. don’t be scared. it loves you already. can’t you see how hard it gets when you’re near?

he gave it another slow stroke, and you couldn’t look away. it twitched again. your whole body ached.

you’ll learn to love it too. he murmured. you’ll see. soon you’ll be begging me to let it kiss your little pussy. and when you’re ready, we’ll make it yours forever.

you whimpered, hugging your bunny tighter.

do i have to? he kissed your forehead, thick cock still brushing your thighs.

you couldn’t stop looking at it.

he stood there, still wet from the shower, his thick cock hanging heavy between his legs, twitching every few seconds like it had a mind of its own. it scared you. made your stomach twist and your thighs press together all over again.

you hugged your bunny tighter.

it’s still twitching… you whispered.

toji chuckled, slow and dark.

yeah, babygirl. because you’re still here.

your face burned.

do you… want to say hi to it?

you blinked.

what?

he stepped closer, his cock brushing your leg again. he likes you. i think he wants you to touch him.

but it’s not a person… you murmured, confused.

he’s not, toji said gently. but he reacts like one. look how hard he gets when you’re near. look how red and swollen his head is. that’s all for you, baby.

you looked down, trembling. it was huge. the tip shiny and flushed, leaking a little bead

that dripped slowly.

i don’t know how to touch it… what if i do it wrong…?

toji smiled.

you won’t. just pet it a little. like you do with your bunny..

your hand moved slow. so slow. your fingers brushed the side of the shaft, and toji hissed between his teeth.

fuck… see? he likes you already.

it’s… hard. but soft… you said, voice cracking. and warm…

he loves your hands, toji whispered, wrapping his own big hand over yours and helping you stroke down.

you’re the first person he’s wanted in years.

but why does it feel like it’s… pulsing?

because he’s excited. because you’re so pretty and soft and sweet. he knows you’re made for him.

you whimpered as your fingers closed around it shakily, barely able to hold half its thickness.

it’s so big… he won’t fit anywhere…

toji kissed your cheek.

not yet. but one day he’ll fit perfectly. your pussy’s still too small. but he’s patient.

your eyes were still wide. your thighs rubbed together from the pressure building again.

do you want to kiss him?

you froze.

w-what…?

just a little kiss. right here.

he stroked the leaking tip, smearing it with his thumb.

give him some love babygirl.

you shook your head fast.

b-but it’s… it smells weird… and sticky…

that’s just because he’s happy,

toji whispered.

he needs to bond with you. just like you bond with your bunny when you sleep with it.

but he’s not soft like bunny… he’s scary…

toji cupped your chin and gently guided your head down, cock pressed against your cheek now, hot and veiny and twitching.

just a kiss, baby. just a little one on the tip.

you whimpered again, mouth trembling.

i… okay…

you leaned down and pressed your lips to the flushed head. toji groaned loud, his hand tightening in your hair.

fuck, baby… you’re perfect.

you pulled back quickly, eyes watery.

he stroked your hair, breathing hard.

you were still on your knees.

the bathroom tiles felt cold under your thighs, and the smell of his skin clean but earthy, musky, older was thick in the steam around you. toji stood in front of you, cock heavy and hard, veins raised like it was angry. your bunny was clutched to your chest

still, squished between your arms and your trembling body.

now babygirl just a few licks with your sweet tongue.

he murmured, stroking himself slowly.

like ice cream. start from the base. all the way up.

your nose wrinkled. your eyes stayed wide, glassy.

i don’t wanna. it smells weird… and it’s hairy…

he laughed, low and deep.

of course it’s hairy, baby. i’m a man. not some pretty little boy from your books.

your gaze dropped again, shame pulsing between your legs. it was huge. thicker than your wrist. flushed and leaking and terrifying.

why’s it so veiny?

because it’s real. strong. and hard for you.

he took a step closer. his thighs flexed. you saw the way his abs weren’t cut, but thick. his stomach had a softness to it, a grown man’s stomach not flat, but firm. his arms were thick and veined, and his chest

had a scar down the side. older. rougher. experienced.

you’ve never seen a body like mine, huh?

you shook your head quickly.

n-no..

he cupped your jaw. tilted your face up.

that’s why you’re lucky. you get to learn with a real man who knows what he’s doing. not some awkward boy.

you squirmed. the tip of his cock rubbing your cheek again.

i’ll be gentle, baby. just one lick. come on… just like ice cream.

you pressed your lips together.

but i don’t want to… it’s… gross…

his hand moved from your jaw to your hair. stroked it softly. then he leaned down, whispering, and i didn’t want to get hard over my sweet little student. but here we are.

you blinked.

you did this,

he murmured.

you made it ache. now you have to help me feel better.

but…

he stroked your hair again, voice like honey.

you’ll feel better too. you’ll see. you’ll feel strong. grown. bonded. and i’ll be so proud of you. don’t you want me to say you did good?

you whimpered, lips parting slowly. he took your hand and wrapped it around the base again. your tiny fingers looked laughable against the girth.

now lick, baby. from the bottom.

your tongue came out. shaky. trembling. the first lick dragged slow along a vein that pulsed against it. you nearly gagged from the taste.

but i can’t…

you can, he whispered. you already are.

he held his cock with one hand, angled it up, and guided you to the leaking tip.

kiss the top again. let him know you’re not mad.

you kissed it. this time wetter. more open.

good girl, he growled. he loves your sweet mouth already.

your body burned. your panties were soaked. your hand was still around him, and your

tongue still trembled against the underside of his shaft.

you didn’t know how long you’d been like that on your knees, throat stretched, lips swollen and trembling around something too big, too hot, too wrong.

he hadn’t stopped. not when you gagged. not when your eyes welled up. not when your nose ran and the salty taste filled your mouth until you didn’t know if you could breathe anymore.

toji was patient. quiet. calm.

like this wasn’t inappropriate.

like he wasn’t your teacher.

you’re doing so well,

he whispered, his hand resting heavy on the back of your head gripping your hair.

guiding you down to the base.

he loves you already, you know that? he’s been waitin’ for you.

your knees burned. your bunny had slipped out of your arms, forgotten in the corner of the steamed-up bathroom. you were dizzy. your jaw ached. spit and precum clung to your chin in wet strands.

this isn’t wrong,

he murmured.

it’s necessary. you’re learning. bonding. this is what happens when a girl’s body starts asking questions. i’m just answering them the only way i can.

you whimpered around him, trying to nod, trying not to choke again. his cock twitched. he groaned softly.

fuck… that’s it, baby. almost there… just hold him a little longer…

he pressed deeper.

your throat squeezed. your chest shuddered.

your eyes blurred.

then he came. thick, hot, punishing pulses flooding your mouth, spilling across your tongue, sliding

down your throat before you could stop it. your body flinched, but he held you close, rubbing your back with one hand while his cock pulsed against your tongue.

shh… it’s okay. he needed to be close to you. he needed to know you accept him.

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t think.

you were still crying.

he pulled out slow, letting his softening length fall against your wet lips as your tears dripped down your chin and onto the tile below.

good girl.

he whispered, crouching down to gather you into his thick arms.

you didn’t resist.

your body folded into him, limp, shaking, soaked.

he carried you out of the bathroom like something fragile and ruined, whispering soft praises the whole time.

you did so good… took me so well… just like i knew you would…

he laid you down on the bed, tucked the blanket around you like nothing had happened.

your plushie bunny was pressed back into your arms, your body still trembling under the heat of shame and the ache between your thighs.

and then he crawled in beside you, propped up on one elbow, stroking your hair.

he misses your mouth already.

you looked up at him, dazed.

he sleeps best in it. and you… you sleep best with him.

he moved your head gently into his lap. you didn’t fight. your lips parted on instinct.

he placed the weight of his cock back between your lips, soft now. warm. familiar.

you closed your mouth around it slowly. your eyes fluttered shut. and tears kept falling.

shh… he whispered, stroking your cheek. this is how good girls rest.

you fell asleep like that.

his cock in your mouth.

his hand in your hair.

his lies buried deeper than anything else inside you…

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ thank you for reading my twisted little piece of fiction. this story is dark, filthy, and deeply personal🖤

so if you made it all the way through, i appreciate u more than you know. ur reblogs, comments, and thirst keep me going. stay dirty, stay curious, and stay safe🖤

onlypinkslut

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[qardenofeden]

what’s left of you, wherein you confront the life nanami kento has left behind for you to navigate through.

a/n : i was going to post this in parts but i didn’t want to compromise anything so here you guys go!!! one of the scenes was posted a bit earlier as a sneak peek so you might recognize that!

word count : 1.6k

prompt : finally getting everything you ever wanted only for it to be taken right from your grasp. angst with a happy ending.

disclaimer : english is not my first nor second language so please be patient! if you spot errors or typos, feel free to comment :) thank you!

the summer breeze passes you by as you stand, your hair dancing with the wind you overlook your alma mater’s campus behind you. nostalgia washes over you, memories of your youth that you so desperately tried to bury coming back.

approximately a decade ago, you stood in this exact spot with nanami kento, who, at the time, served as the light in your life.

you experienced all the horrors the world had to offer, but kento never once faltered. despite facing all those said horrors head-on, he remained kind-hearted, carrying out his tasks with a smile.

and you don’t know when you first started loving him, but it must be around your third year of junior high school when your love for nanami kento truly blossomed, manifesting in ways that, in retrospect, were not so subtle.

but kento was taught to be a gentleman through and through, and so his modesty translated into a sense of denseness.

everyone knew it except for him. your upperclassmen especially, noticed your favoritism and even made teasing remarks about it, but with nanami, it all went through one ear and out the other. he brushed it all off, claiming that your special treatment came from a place of familiarity, because you’d known each other for far longer.

and so began your little game of cat and mouse.

“kento, i got you your favorite bread!” your classes hadn’t even started yet, and you were already greeting him with a smile and an outstretched arm, offering him a sandwich from his favorite bakery.

“HAH?! it’s 8:12 in the mornin’! you mean to tell me you deliberately went outta your way to pick up a sandwich for nanami and nothin’ for anyone else?!” gojo interrupted, approaching you and swinging an arm around your shoulder as shoko and geto, your other upperclassmen, trail behind him.

the latter chuckles in amusement, eyes forming two thin lines as he smiles, “ah, young love.”

“that’s how my grandparents started off, too.” shoko joins in on the teasing, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

thankfully, nanami saves you from humiliation when he speaks up, sighing as he shakes his head. “don’t mind them. thank you, i really appreciate this.”

kento takes the sandwich and unwraps it, then splits it in half before handing the bigger slice to you, making the others gasp and woo. gojo pushes you towards kento with the arm he had previously wrapped around you, making you falter as you fall in the blonde’s arms. their teasing shrieks only get louder, with geto muttering a little “i was unfamiliar with your game.”

kento lets go of you once you find your footing, and he scolds the white haired man, furrowing his brows as he does so.

he looks back again at you, face softening as he offers you a small smile. his brown eyes find yours as he apologizes, extending his arms for the second time as he gives you your half of the sandwich.

suddenly feeling bashful under his gaze and the added presence of the others, you look down as you clear your throat, having no choice but to take the food, fearing that their teasing would only worsen if you refused.

times were much simpler then. you can’t help but wonder how different things could have turned out had you all been born as non sorcerers, away from the responsibilities forced upon you, the responsibilities you inherited, and the weight placed upon your shoulders since your birth.

but then you remember how everything, even the bad aspects of your upbringing, only made you and kento closer, and suddenly you don’t mind so much. because for kento, you’d take all the pain if it meant being able to keep his love.

like that time when you and kento were walking home after a duo mission when the sky suddenly started pouring. without an umbrella or even a jacket to keep either of you dry, you head to the nearest convenience store together and shake off the droplets of rain caught within your clothes.

taking a seat, you watch the world through the glass walls of the store. kento follows your gaze, before he fishes a handkerchief out his pocket. it’s surprisingly dry when he offers it to you without a word.

looking up at him in confusion, you take it from his hands. you’re about to speak when he beats you to it, muttering a quick and simple, “i’ll get us some ramen,” before he disappears into one of the aisles.

you’re left in confusion, feeling stunned before you clear your throat and pull yourself together. that’s just how kento is, you think, shrugging it off as you pat yourself dry.

minutes later, he returns with two cups of noodles and gently places your favorite flavor in front of you, then a wooden pair of chopsticks on top. taking a seat next to yours, he begins eating as you two watch the rain.

silence fills the room, save for the sounds of slurping and the harsh drops of rain outside. the tranquility provides a sense of comfort to the both of you, wrapping you up like a blanket after the harsh mission you’d just returned from.

the atmosphere is light and peaceful, much like how kento’s always made you feel. offering his seats, holding your bags when you feel tired, and even keeping an eye on you during missions. you don’t know how he does it. be perfect, you mean, because there is not a single flawed bone in nanami’s body.

it’s evident, especially in that one memory you hold so dearly in your heart.

after being separated for years after high school, you all went to your respective colleges. you thought it’d be the end of your little high school crush story, but little did you know what the future held in store for you.

years after, you and kento are in a french café, a pain au chocolat and a croissant resting on your respective plates. he had come across one of your social media accounts on accident, stumbling upon it when he was looking for… honestly, he doesn’t know what he was looking for. all he remembers is seeing your name and picture, and, as if a moth to a flame, clicking the message option to shoot you a text.

“that day is engraved into my brain,” light breaths of air escape his lips as he talks about the 7/11 ramen run, and you wonder how he can make even the slightest noises like that sound perfect, “i think about it a lot. you know, that was probably the first time i’d ever seen you in that sense.”

“you still think about that?”

…

“you don’t?”

———

kento nanami was a man of unwavering patience and little indulgence. every decision, no matter how small, was carefully well thought out, so you were surprised when he proposed to you after only 3 years and 7 months.

as waves of sunlight illuminated your face, kento sat up in bed with a pen and a newspaper, his bare back against the headboard as he pushed up his glasses. he clears his throat when he feels you shuffle awake, one of his hands snaking its way into your hair.

“good morning, sweetheart.” his voice is husky, clearly just having come from slumber.

you groan against him, nuzzling into the sides of his torso, your cheeks resting against his abs, “good morning, handsome.”

“you flatter me, my love.” he chuckles against you, and if it were up to nanami, he’d stay in this moment forever, the snug fit of your body against his aiding the sun in warming him up. he snaps the newspaper straight, catching your attention.

“what’s that?” you ask, closing your eyes and pressing yourself further, as if magnetized.

“today’s word search. would you like to help me?”

you groan, sighing as you pull yourself together and force your eyelids open. you rub your eyes and yawn, mirroring his posture as you sit up and rest your head against his shoulder.

that’s when you see it.

the encircled words: me, my, marry, will, love.

“my love, will you marry me?”

and as the sweet answer of “yes” escapes your lips, nanami sees it clearly now. how he’s always been yours. even if he didn’t know it. even if you didn’t know it.

but now you both do. and he realizes, that day when he found your account.

he’s always been looking for you.

———

your wedding ring fits snugly on your finger as you fidget, rolling it around.

it’s been a year since kento’s departure. a year since shibuya. a year since your life turned upside down and you’d lost all you ever had.

you remember a time when you thought you held the world in your hands. because with kento, he never made you feel any less, always at your disposal.

so now you keep his last name, and although you and kento never really had kids, you find yourself with three of his.

nobara, yuuji, and megumi all pool around you as you visit his grave. they’re laughing, conversing happily as they tell him stories of how good you’ve been to them.

“yuuji keeps eating away all of the food mrs. nanami makes!”

“nanamin, that’s not true! shut up nobara, i have to eat a lot because i work out!”

“both of you, shut up. this is so embarassing…”

despite not being able to physically share these memories with your husband, you’re not worried. you know he’s looking down on you, maybe even guiding you like the angel he is. knowing him, he’d probably argue with even the highest of beings if it meant being able to watch over you once more.

and maybe you lost all you ever had, but now you’ve gained a whole new world.

because no amount of sorrow or grief or heartache could compare to even a fraction to the miracle that is kento’s love. because regardless of the short time you’ve shared together, nanami’s love was enough to last you a lifetime.

a/n : thank you for making it this far! i hope you enjoyed it. likes & reblogs are appreciated but i rly rly rly love when you guys comment! :,) makes me feel like i’m not talking to a brick wall :p

[sarabyfleetwoodmacmp3]

💭

[the-tarot-witch22]

What's coming for you in 2025? - Pick a Pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta | My year goal post

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you - The emperor, The hanged man, 6 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, and 6 of cups)

Okay so the very first thing I feel and heard for you guy is "Organization and structure", if you have been messy like emotionally or just not cleaning your room and just being lazy, I see you getting better and do things in a better way, I am also feeling you will be taking charge in your personal and professional life, if you are in school then i am seeing you being group leader or having better grades, and if you work then i see leading your team, or even correcting your manager like damn this person doesn't hold back, I am feeling some of you may even start your own business like plenty of you wanting to do that, or had doubts, so i am seeing this year could be very fruitful to you in so many ways, I am feeling many of you are just polite in this group, even though you guys might be snarky, BUT, this year i am seeing changing that, i am feeling you will communicated yourself a lot better, if you guys had some financial issues that will be resolving too, I am also feeling you might learn from a male figure in your life, make them your role model, and learn a lot from them. Or I am also feeling in your life you guys have someone dominating your household, like a man, sometimes you do get in fights but it's not bad, this is only for some of you. I am also seeing you being not lazy as you were before, going out of comfort zone, doing things, which you have to do, i keep hearing panda for you guys, some of you could definitely be resonating with that lol. I am also feeling this year you would be helping out a lot of people, and looking back on things you did wrong and will do better this year, also do help people when you can, like feeding animals or people who are in need, it will count as a good karma, some of you could have been injured in past? definitely felt that, but don't worry this year, i am also feeling good health for you, I am also feeling some of you could reunite with people from past, but only let them in if you feel like it, for some of you its a friend, and for some its an ex, just be careful <3 I am also feeling you will get lots of nostalgic feeling and if you have moved out, i am seeing you meeting your parents this year, like getting a feeling some of you might be in abroad, so you might meet or talk with your parents and friends a lot. Earth signs are very prominent here especially virgo and taurus sun/moon/rising, and scorpio sun/ moon / rising.

Oracle cards I pulled for you :

a new start is coming (new moon) : A new beginning a new start is on its way for you, you will be more hopeful, let go of the past, things you manifest will be fruitful, things will move, you will feel more alive if you felt stuck, and YES! whatever your question could be your doubts because trust me its a yes.

be assertive - Be confident in your decisions and yourself, i am hearing "life is too short" living by other people's rules, so make your own and just do what you gotta do.

Okay pile 1, that's all i got for you guys, happy new year my pookies, may all your wishes come true cheers <3

Pile 2 :

(The cards I got for you - 8 of wands, 2 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, 6 of swords and the lovers)

Okay so the very first thing I heard and feel is that you will or might be taking a trip, I am feeling things will move fast for you, I am also seeing you guys getting the job you want, the internship, the college you want to go into, everything working out for you, the hard struggles that you have faced in your life are just vanishing but i am also seeing a small trip or just up and down from the college/school/work to your kind of travel, I am feeling you might meet someone this year could be at work or at school if not then, some sort of daily doing activity, but anyhow i am feeling there is so much in life that will be working out for you guys. Some of you would be developing new hobbies for yourself like going to gym or yoga or art classes. You might do find to juggle with them a bit difficult like there will be so many things and you would be like we want to try it, try that etc. But all in a good way. I am also feeling that there might be a sort of loss you faced in your life in 2024 or 2023, i am seeing you will be moving away from it, and healing that part of yours, I am also feeling when you do and that's when you will meet someone in your life, and if you don't meet someone then your energy will definitely be calling your partner's energy. But for many of you I am sensing there is a beautiful reunion ahead. Plus there will be decision coming ahead, so go with your gut and choose what you have to. Self love is also a care here, where you focus on yourself. Gemini , cancer, capricorn sun/ moon/ rising are quite prominent here.

Oracles Cards I pulled for you -

Luck is on your side (new moon in Sagittarius) - Write down your wishes your gratitude in the journal, don't be judgy if sometimes you are, a thing that will help you in every way, which you wanted so much it will come to you, there might also be a trip coming.

No need to worry : Things will get better for you so leave the rest to universe and be present in the moment, I am sensing some of you are over worrier so do take it easy, because universe got your back.

Ask for help from others - If you bottle things up, then try to ask for help from others don't hesitate, and your loved ones love you, they love to listen to you talk don't get lost in your heads all the time, you got this.

Okay pile 2, that's all i got for you guys, happy new year my pookies, may all your wishes come true cheers <3

Pile 3 :

(The cards I got for you guys - 3 of wands, queen of wands, king of cups, the fool)

Okay so the very first thing i hear and feel for you guys is, manifest your dreams, just do it, don't doubt if it will be fruitful or not just do it, I am also feeling this new year will bring you a new sort of adventure, something you have never felt before, WHY AM I FEELING THE ADERALINE RUSH, SO I AM SENSING IT WILL BE SOMETHING UNIQUE AND AMAZING AND A DREAM COME TRUE! I am also feeling that some of you guys have fire sign prominent sun/moon/rising especially Sagittarius, I am feeling you guys will be going on a trip this year, which is abroad, you might also go to study in new country, it will be so sudden you will feel it's a no, but when you do it will be like, you made it, 2025 is a year of prosperity for you, and i am seeing lots of blue color, and blue skies, and I am seeing hope for you guys, new starts, adventures, I am also feeling you might adopt a dog or a animal this year, I am also feeling you will enter your divine feminine era this year, and being more confident in your body, I am also feeling the person you will attract will be head over heels for you, awwww, and I am seeing you stepping or taking risks, you might be a bit reckless but honestly seeing this will work out for you~

Oracles card I got for you -

conclusion are within reach (full moon eclipse) - Forgive yourself and others what they have hurt you, it will help you heal, the door once shut, dont go back to it, just know helping others will also be fruitful to you guys.

step out of your comfort zone (north node) - go out just do what you always want to do, say fuck it and do it don't doubt your blessing, you got this, leave the past in past, let go of people or things that doesn't serve you, just know whatever you choose you will be moving in right direction.

success! - I am seeing your professional life getting better and better and whatever door was not opened it will open now, and I am seeing you getting lots of opportunities.

romance - I am definitely seeing you meeting someone this year, if you alrwady have someone your relationship might move to next level.

compromise - The only thing I will say is just get out of your comfort zone.

Okay pile 3, that's all i got for you guys, happy new year my pookies, may all your wishes come true cheers <3

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[tamahoshio]

ive been fucking with an au of a slice of my main/fave OC's life (bcause he must bear the most torture i guess lmao) and like i'm so tempted to make it canon bc it explains so well the time right after it, as well as a few things in general, but i also absolutely don't because it's like sensitive material and i dont wanna have to tell people besides myself about it bc despite research personal experiences and all i know it's a kind of thing where i'm probably just not the person anyone would want to even mention some of it? complicated feels in tags?